Two Girls, One Artie
by ilovethesoundofviolins
Summary: The weekend before the Glee club wins Nationals, Santana decides to give Artie a little parting present before she graduates, and Brittany joins in. 3x21.


**Author's Note: **Writing this was like crack to me. Especially crack of the Artana brand. That's all I'll say.

Also, the way this is formatted is that it kind of jumps around through past and present, but I think it works out. enjoy.

* * *

_"Have you even done this before?"_

_Artie was sitting in his chair making quick work of his khaki pants, thumbing his belt buckle and pushing his zipper down with shaky fingers. Santana was standing across from him in Brittany's bedroom in nothing but skimpy, black, lace lingerie, pulling her hair into a ponytail as was her tradition before getting physical._

_"U-um—" Artie muttered, his eyes raking over Santana's flat, toned stomach and then meeting her eyes. She frowned at the way his eyes had just wandered, but she guessed she couldn't blame him. Artie seemed like the gawking type anyway, and besides, he hadn't seen nothin' yet. When he saw Santana naked, in person, his brain was probably going to explode._

_ A faint trace of a smile formed on her lips._

_"Well, I _did _have sex with Brittany," Artie told her slowly, blue eyes blinking rapid and nervous. "I'm—not a virgin—"_

_"I don't mean sex, idiot," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "I mean a threesome."_

_Artie felt his dick stir a little at the sound of that word. Threesome. Swallowing the lump in his throat that felt like the size of a planet, Artie began to awkwardly push his pants down his skinny hips, letting them pool beneath his shins and leaving them bunched up above his ankles._

_"I'm in Glee club, my current girlfriend is my Calculus book, and I wear sweater vests that are typically found on eighty year old men," Artie answered, his sweaty palms adjusting the fabric of his boxers, over his half hard-on. He ghosted his fingers over his boner, resisting the urge to give himself a few preliminary strokes, but that would be cheating. He watched as Santana walked towards the mirror on Brittany's dresser, watched Santana's legs and ass and _god damn, was he really about to do this?

_"I never thought I would _ever_ have a threesome," Artie said._

(x)

Artie wheeled into school on Friday morning feeling like a new man. His head was held higher, he wore a proud and private smile, and every time he saw a girl in the hall, he winked at them and gave them a "'sup?"-even girls he didn't know and even girls who gave him the stank eye after he did it.

Artie didn't care. Artie had had a threesome with two of McKinley's hottest and most popular Cheerios. He got to hold onto that memory forever, and he was going to feel pretty self-validated for months and months to come because of it.

When Artie got to the choir room later on, his closer friends noticed the slight boost in his confidence. They couldn't tell _what _had happened explicitly, but Artie was definitely exuding something, and Sam was the first one to mention it to him.

"Dude, you're, like, glowing, or something," Sam said as Artie wheeled up to the group of them, to Sam, Puck, Rory, and Blaine all sitting in a circle of chairs. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm not glowing," Artie corrected, waving a finger. "I'm _basking_."

"Well, what are you basking in?" Blaine asked, eyes curious.

Puck smirked. "You look like a man who just got laid," he commented.

Artie smiled in slow motion. "Let's just say I had a damn good night last night," he said in one go, adjusting his glasses and leaning back in his chair.

Sam's eyes went wide.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"Was it that girl from the AV Club who secretly wants your nuts?" Puck asked. "Was it Sugar?" Rory shot him a glare. "No offense."

"I don't kiss 'n tell," Artie answered, smugly. He added on, slowly, more uncertainly, "Or, technically—have sex, and tell—"

Sam sucked his teeth, Puck said, "I'm happy for you dude, but you're _going to _tell me who it is later," Rory said, "I'd always thought you were a virgin," and across the way, Blaine watched as Brittany and Santana skipped into the room happily, pinky in pinky. They sort of looked like they were "glowing" too. Or whatever.

Anyway, Mr. Schue called the room to order and they had one of their last Glee club meetings of the week. One of their last weeks ever. Artie sat next to Santana and Brittany was on Santana's left; the three of them sitting close together hadn't been too unusual as of late, and it especially was not anymore. Anyone who'd bothered to pay attention, and no one did, really, would've noticed the quick little smirks and mischievous glances that Artie kept giving Brittany and Santana throughout a good amount of Glee rehearsal that day. And they would've also noticed that Brittany and Santana would first look at each other, and then give Artie mischievous glances right back.

(x)

_Brittany came back into her room holding a condom she'd found just as Santana was kneeling down in front of Artie's lap. Santana turned and gave a warm glance to her blonde girlfriend, who was dressed in a white bra and black spandex and was putting the Durex down on top of her dresser._

_Brittany smiled back at Santana, and Artie too. __Artie, who was topless now, was distracted by Santana and the view he was getting of the tops of her boobs, as she went ahead and pulled his other pant leg over his foot and yanked his foot out of his other shoe._

_"There," she said, smiling and making eye contact with him._

_Artie felt like he couldn't breathe already. He watched as Santana unceremoniously threw his pants into some random corner, and then fixated his eyes on the two half naked girls in front of him as they walked slowly towards each other._

_"Sooo, how are we gonna do this?" Brittany asked, rolling her neck and popping her knuckles, shifting her hips from side to side._

_Santana drew Brittany into her by her waist, as Artie absentmindedly ran his thumb along the outline of the bulge beneath his boxers._

_"Well, we should give him a show first, don't you think?" Santana said in a low voice, hands running up and down Brittany's sides. Brittany smiled at her and pressed her hips into her girlfriend's, and Santana kissed Brittany open-mouthed and with tongue, sucking her lips away after four or five seconds with a loud, obscene pop._

_"'Kay," Brittany agreed. She glanced down at Santana's body and was going to go in and kiss her girlfriend again, but then she gasped and backed up suddenly._

_"Oh, I almost forgot!" she said. "Two things—"_

_First, Brittany trotted over to the end table next to her bed. On top of the end table there was a camcorder, and on the floor, there was a folded-up tripod. She picked both up and raised her eyebrows at Artie—part of the deal (by Brittany's suggestion) was that he got to record this little shindig with them, so long as he kept the video to himself. (Not that it mattered whether or not he did keep it to himself. "Two Girls, One Cat" was probably still lingering out there somewhere on the Internet anyway.)_

_"I don't know how to do this part," Brittany mumbled, holding the equipment up cluelessly. "Last time, Lord Tubbington set it up for me…and, he edited the video too…"_

_Santana hastened over to Brittany's side, setting up the camera and the tripod in the corner of the room with practiced ease. Artie gulped again, his heartbeat pounding in anticipation and his brain short circuiting as he watched the girls move acroune. Santana glanced up at him as she adjusted the view on the camera while Brittany knelt down and reached underneath her bed. After a few seconds, Brittany was dragging Lord Tubbington out from his apparent hiding place, bundling the huge cat in her arms and kissing it on the top of its head._

_"Aw, I'm sorry, but you can't have sweet, sexy kisses with us this time," she said to the animal. "Artie is allergic to cats, and besides—" she held the cat closer to her face as she walked towards the door, "—if you were in it, then it'd be a _four_some…"_

_Brittany let the cat lick her lips several times and then she threw it out of the bedroom door. It landed in the hall with a callous thump as Brittany locked it outside._

_Artie made a mental note to _not_ kiss Brittany before Santana did, for fear of tasting cat-saliva (and for fear of getting a slight rash in the middle of having sex, like he used to back when he and Brittany were together)._

_Artie heard the camera beep, and his eyes instantly found Santana and Brittany's forms again. Santana and Brittany turned Artie's chair so that he was facing the cam, and then they sat on either one of Artie's armrests, legs slightly angled towards each other and entangled in his._

_Santana reached across Artie, cupped her girlfriend's jaw, and went in for another open-mouthed kiss. They got to using their tongues with no hesitation, Santana lapping at the inside of Brittany's cheek, Brittany's hands caressing Santana's thigh and squeezing one of her boobs as they went. Artie couldn't believe this was happening to him, _in real time,_ and he tilted his head back to watch with his mouth hung open. It felt like Santana and Brittany were moving in a sensual slow motion; like every time Brittany's fingers rubbed Santana's nipples over her bra, or every time Santana sucked on Brittany's tongue and he could tell, they were doing it and dragging it out so that he would be purposefully tortured. Tortured in a damn good way, of course._

_It was all going down in inch or two of Artie's face, the kissing and groping and faint moans from each of them; he was at eye level with their chests, gazing up at their jaws as they worked against and inside each other's mouths—he actually didn't know what the hell to do with himself, besides watch the girl on girl action like he was born to do it, and feel his forehead and body begin to sweat profusely. (It should've been a given but he was completely hard at this point, now. Completely.)_

_At one point, Santana began talking to Brittany in between their kisses._

_"What should we do with him?" she asked, her voice almost a growl._

_Brittany bit Santana's lower lip and pulled on it slowly before answering, and Artie couldn't help it anymore and now he was faintly, unevenly stroking the head of his cock through his boxers fabric, with two fingertips. Brittany's hand traced patterns against Santana's thigh as Artie whispered, "Oh my god, oh my god," so quietly that he could hardly be heard._

_"I don't know," Brittany answered, fondling Santana's breast in her other hand and thumbing hard over the place where her nipple was. Santana moaned a little and her chest gravitated closer to Brittany's, closing more of the distance between them. Artie couldn't stop watching the way Brittany could fit one of Santana's boobs in her whole hand, the way Santana's boobs were malleable and supple and perfectly round and really, really huge and porn-star-gorgeous, and so _this _was why Puck always went on about fake ones all the time, now Artie _got that.

_"Maybe he'd like it if I…got you wet," Brittany suggested, running her hand down Santana's abdomen and dipping a finger just beneath Santana's underwear._

_Artie's eyes went even wider. Santana looked down at him._

_"All in preparation for when I ride him," Santana replied to Brittany. She lifted her legs and draped them so that they hovered over Artie's lap and she was facing Brittany, one calf resting on the opposite arm rest and the other resting comfortably on top of Brittany's thighs. Brittany shoved her hand completely inside Santana's underwear and Artie didn't know what to do with _his_ hands; one was clenching into a tight fist on the other side of his leg, and the other was having difficulty rutting itself over his cock without his hand trembling terribly._

_"H-hold up, you're riding me?" Artie choked out to Santana, as Brittany began to rub against Santana's clit and Santana's back began to arch._

_"Yeah," Santana exhaled, frustrated, as Brittany continued to focus on her work. Santana closed her eyes, lulled her head back, and placed one of her hands on Artie's bare shoulder, digging her nails into his skin in a way that made him cry out a little. She braced herself as Brittany's hand began to move up and down faster between her folds, and Artie watched in near shock at the way Santana's hips were gently thrusting against Brittany's fingers, the way he was starting to feel the heat coming from in between Santana's legs._

_And this was happening _on his wheelchair. _He wasn't going to be able sit in this thing without having extremely obscene daydreams _for weeks.

_"If anyone's gonna get Brit off tonight," Santana continued, her voice broken, her eyes opening and staring at the top of her girlfriend's head. "It's me."_

(x)

The "deal," if it could even be considered that, started at a random lunch period a week before. Santana had leaned over to kiss Brittany and across the table that day, Artie had gotten caught looking, awkwardly shifting and starting to blush.

Santana was the one who'd noticed it. And it definitely wasn't one of those sad, longing, kicked-puppy he looks he used to give them over a year ago, after he and Brittany broke up. No, those looks were _way_ long gone, and Artie was cool and good friends with the both of them now. This was a look of curiosity. Of attraction that he was attempting to deny, maybe. And definitely of embarrassment.

Since Santana tended to feed off of the embarrassment of others (and with Artie it was out of love and good fun, she told herself), she made it point to say something about it a day later, while he was at his locker after school.

"You watched our sex tape," Santana confronted him.

Artie looked up at her like a half dead deer in the headlights. It made Santana scowl inside, but it was one of his signature looks, especially with her.

"Afternoon, Santana, I'm—great, thanks for asking?" Artie fumbled.

"You told me you watched it after it came out," Santana said, crossing her arms, stepping closer to him. "You said that 'watching Two Girls, One Cat was like staring into the face of God.'"

Artie snorted nervously. "Oh. You remember that—"

"I know that you and I have a track record of practically hating each other," Santana said now.

"I _know_ that's right," Artie said under his breath, with flare.

"But I do actually like you," Santana said. Artie knew that she did now, but it was still a surprise to hear so bluntly. Santana smiled a little, and Artie's nervousness slightly faded into a quirked-lipped smile too. "And I think I'm gonna miss you when I leave this shitty little town," Santana admitted endearingly.

Artie closed his locker door and straightened up a little in his chair.

"I'll miss you too," he said, adjusting his glasses. He smiled wider, adding, "Especially your furious outbursts in Spanish in the choir room. Goin' _all_ 'Lima Heights.'"

Santana chuckled. "Shut up," she said lightly.

"Anyway," she continued. "I saw you watching me and Brit gettin' our little mack on at lunch yesterday."

Santana began to walk away now, knowing that Artie would wheel after her.

Artie frowned at what she'd just said and followed.

"Hold on, you sound like you're trying to make me out as some kinda pervert," he noted.

"All guys are perverts," Santana dismissed. "Hell, even I'm a pervert. I know that everyone in the whole school watched the video, girls too—" her voice trailed off a little, and if she sounded uncomfortable about the tape at all, Artie couldn't tell, "—it's no secret."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're bringing this up now," Artie answered. (He knew that if Santana was coming up to him to talk to him, on her own accord, it was probably about some kind of scheme. Or…) "Caving in and opening up one of the seventeen e-mails I got with the link wasn't exactly my proudest moment, but—" Artie said, sounding nervous and even apologetic, his eyes getting a little bigger, "at least I didn't press forward. I wouldn't—I couldn't have—"

"No, I'm not mad at you at all," Santana said. "Look. I'm doing this thing where I'm giving the people I care about some kind of gift before I graduate. At some point in these lousy three years I've managed to care about you, and Brittany likes you too, so—" she looked down and smiled at him, "—we have an idea. Something we wanna—give you."

Artie braked his wheelchair suddenly. Santana turned to face him.

"Thursday night, next week," she said in a lower voice, leaning down so that their faces were close; Artie's eyes grazed her full lips as they grinned in slow motion.

"You, me, Brittany, Brittany's house—threesome," Santana proposed.

Artie stared at her blankly and his voice cracked. "Say _what_?"

"I'm not messing with you," Santana said, shrugging. "Before I leave for college, me, you and my girlfriend should all get it on. It'd be fun. Mostly for us, but you'd enjoy it too. Come on. It's not like you haven't ever thought about it before."

Artie had a brief flashback to the night that he had his laptop open and "Two Girls, One Cat" playing, sweating, sitting in the dark, and guiltily skipping through the "dirtiest" parts of the sex tape while trying to stomach others, trying to tell himself that _Santana and Brittany weren't two girls he knew from school, they were definitely **not **two girls that he definitely knew and saw everyday at school._

"Come on, are you really gonna say no?" Santana said, cutting in on Artie's flashback. "You're only gonna get this chance once, Abrams."

Artie gazed at Santana's warm expression thought about it for a second. He thought about his junior year, Santana and Brittany's senior year, and how despite what had happened between them, they'd all managed to get along and squash their beef. Artie was happy for them somehow, and Santana and Brittany supported Artie in his endeavors.

Artie let himself smile a little, and Santana smiled back.

"I—can't believe that I'm saying this," Artie muttered, "but—yes."

Santana stood to her full height. "Great," she said.

She walked away from him down the hall as he still stayed parked in his wheelchair, his head spinning in hazy, blurred out images of Santana and Brittany together, of him and Brittany together, and _all three of them somehow together._

"You can thank me later, Wheels," Santana called out over her shoulder.

Artie wondered what alternate universe he'd just rolled into, counted his lucky stars, and tried to stay as composed and _not nervous _as possible until Thursday night.

(x)

_Brittany had fingered Santana until she was wet and sweating and groaning in Spanish, and now Brittany was picking Artie up out of his chair and helping him lie flat on his back on the floor. Brittany, with no bra and just her spandex on, straddled his lap and smiled at him as she pulled down his boxers, glancing down at his now-free dick as it lightly thudded against his stomach._

_"Do you remember when we used to do this?" Brittany asked plainly, tracing her finger in light, teasing circles across his pale stomach._

_Artie nodded like a bobblehead and swallowed thickly, his smile tightly wound because _god _did he just want the girls to _do something_ with him already._

_"Mmhm," he mumbled, staring at her nipples and her neck and her simple, pretty face, still finding it hard to breathe properly. Artie's hand touched the dry skin of her thigh, and he smiled, remembering his first time and how blown away he'd been by Brittany's skill (and how little Brittany had cared about how much Artie's persona had obviously screamed virgin). "I do."_

_"You were so awkward," Brittany said, shaking her head a little, running her thumbs across his hip bones, her eyes still taking in his cock. "In a totally, totally _good _way, Artie…"_

_"Alright, that's cute, you two, but we're not here to talk about that," Santana said bluntly from the side of them. She was standing and unclipping her bra, letting it fall to the floor right next to Artie's face. Santana glanced down at Artie, his brown hair damp and swept across his forehead, his eyes wired, his glasses crooked, his small chest respiring up and down. She looked at Brittany too, blonde hair out of its ponytail, naked torso pert and clean, blue eyes making contact with hers and staring at her sort of hungrily._

_"Why don't you let me take care of him, Brit," Santana suggested in a sultrier voice again, her stomach dipping lustfully as she kneeled down, "and you can take care of me."_

_The two of them kissed long and soft (and Artie's hand crawled towards his dick again to keep it from straining), and then the girls switched positions. Santana straddled Artie, half-sitting on his numb thighs and scratching her hands down his torso, and Brittany wrapped herself behind Santana, straddling Artie's legs and bringing her hands around to Santana's bare chest, nestling her lips at the base of Santana's neck._

_Brittany began to suck Santana's neck and grope her boobs, and the dirty image of them itself was enough for Artie to get off on; his groin was practically in pain at this point, but when Santana looked down at him and found that he was touching himself, she swatted his hand away and waved her finger in his face._

_"When it comes to my girlfriend," Santana started, rocking her hips a little to the rhythm Brittany was setting as she squeezed her chest. "Mhm—I like—switching up the roles. But when it comes to men—" Santana paused and bit her lip when Brittany licked her own fingers and then pinched one of Santana's nipples, hard, "—I like to be in control."_

_Artie couldn't even make words at that. Santana brought her hand to his cock and finally touched him, running her thumb assuredly up and down his hard length._

_"Not bad," Santana said in a low voice, wrapping her hand around the base of him. She gave him a few slow, hard, concentrated strokes; Artie's hips rose as much as they could and he had to bite his lip to keep from making a really, _really _embarrassing noise._

_"Oh, g-god, Santana—" Artie muttered._

_"Don't talk," Santana instructed him, pressing her finger against his lips strictly. "Or I'll just tease you longer."_

_Santana's hand slowly but steadily built up speed, and after a while she was jerking Artie off so quickly and roughly that heat was pricking at his stomach and he was losing his mind. All this while Brittany had three of her fingers inside Santana and the other hand spread across her breasts; Santana had her head leaned against Brittany's shoulders and her body splayed out and open, driving her hips down into her girlfriend's fingers and writhing around them, moaning. Artie didn't know where to look, whether to focus on Santana's boobs bouncing or Brittany's hand as it fingered Santana or Santana's hands giving him the best hand job he'd probably ever get (until he was 29 and married to a lady-in-the-streets-but-a-freak-in-the-sheets, anyway)._

_"Brit—" Santana said at some point, "Get me the condom from up there—"_

_Artie gasped when Santana abruptly let go of him, watching as Brittany got up and brought the condom back to Santana; Santana ripped it open with her teeth and Brittany returned to her position, taking the lubed condom and reaching around Santana's waist to slide it over Artie's boner._

_Santana gave Artie a slight squeeze and smirked as he squirmed and tensed up—it was funny how boys were so easily won over by their dicks, all you had to do was barely touch them and they were at attention, turning into frustrated messes at the will of your hand._

_"Haven't done this in a while," Santana said, slightly out of breath. Brittany began to press herself flush against Santana's back, massaging her hips with her fingers. "Although I'm sure it's been a shorter while for me than it has been for you."_

_Artie was attempting to fist the carpet with one of his hands, his eager, teenage impatience and raging boner becoming too much for him. "That's—hilarious," he managed, adjusting his glasses up on his sweaty nose with his other hand._

_Santana raised herself up on her knees, aligning herself with Artie's member as Brittany backed up and watched Santana from behind. Santana began to sink down on top of him and the latex, gasping, spreading her legs wider, and pressing her hands firmly into his flat chest for support; she wasn't used to feeling so full, wasn't used to the hardness and thickness of a cock inside her. Artie 's eyes wrenched shut as Santana inched down on top of him; he wasn't used to tight, wet heat and pressure as opposed to a dry hand, had missed the feeling of a girl's warm hips bottomed out and grinding against his own._

_Santana sank down and scratched Artie's skin with her nails as she adjusted to the feeling of him. Then, with an almost wicked smile and a spark in her dark eyes, Santana began to gradually, torturously roll her hips in slow circles, moving Artie's dick around inside her._

_"OhsweetLordhavemercy," Artie drabbled._

_"You're so damn sensitive," Santana told him lowly, still smirking. She jerked her hips in a faster circle, moaning a little from her throat as Artie arched his back and pressed his lips together, keeping in his outburst. "I barely move and you're already coming undone," Santana spoke._

_"Y'don't know what it's like to have a penis," Artie exhaled quickly. He groaned when Santana worked her hips over him again, continuously. "It's—mmhff,_ _ohmygod—very_—very _sensitive_—"

_Brittany was saying "god you're so hot" behind Santana, so Santana turned and looked at her, summoning for her to join in._

_"C'mere, Brit," Santana groaned. "To the front of me—"_

_Brittany came around to Santana's front, straddling Artie and facing her back towards him. Artie nervously and shakily put his hands around Brittany's hips, thumbs pressing into her ass as Brittany half-sat on his abdomen, the damp skin of her thighs pressed against his sticky skin. Santana let out an especially loud moan up ahead when Brittany, from her position facing San, began to rub against Santana's clit with two fingers. Santana wrapped her arms tight around Brittany's shoulders and clung onto them, using them for leverage, using them to slam herself down even harder on Artie._

_"Mm, I love you," Brittany grunted, beginning to rock her hips at Santana's rhythm._

_"I love you too," Santana replied quickly, followed by a string of moans._

_Artie chimed in a broken voice, "I love you _both _right now."_

_Santana bounced up and down on top, taking Artie's boner inside her at whatever pace and severity and time that she desired (and her pace was unpredictable, sometimes taking him so deep that he nudged her cervix, sometimes teasing him with slow, soaked circles like before, so that Artie didn't get the satisfaction of coming before her. She wasn't going to have that). Brittany felt Santana's body as it worked on top of Artie, got to thumb her clit and give her girlfriend double stimulation as they went. And Artie got to watch Santana and Brittany make out again over him, got an obscene view of their bodies pressed close and grinding against each other, and he _knew _he was gonna have a _hard_ time forgetting what this looked like when he was lying on his back in bed at night. Literally._

_They kept going, even when Artie started to alternate between cursing and praising, and even when Santana let Artie's cock slide out of her as she reached the brink of her orgasm, holding onto Brittany tightly and wrapping her legs around her girlfriend as her body shook and she cried out._

(x)

New Directions won Nationals a week later, and as they entered the McKinley hallways with their giant trophy, they were greeted with music, red and white confetti, sparking cider, and admiration from their peers.

Santana scooped Brittany into a quick but thorough tongue-kiss in the midst of the commotion in the choir room, and later, Santana and Brittany found Artie and kissed him eagerly and unabashedly on either cheek.

(x)

_It became so dirty in Brittany's bedroom that Artie felt like he was dreaming._

_He felt like he was outside himself as Brittany's room was becoming musty and humid and smelling like sex. Artie, Santana, and Brittany went for at least another musty, dazed half hour, with Artie on his back, Brittany with Artie's cock sliding between the mounds on her chest, and Santana pleasing Brittany from behind with her tongue, hands on her ass. Artie almost felt like he couldn't keep up anymore once they'd gotten to this position, once the three of them were sweaty and panting, like he was exhausted and overdone and good on having sex for a long while now, but he'd be crazy if he willingly wished for them to ever stop._

_They didn't finish until Artie came around the tight ring of Brittany's fist, later, and Brittany came at the will of Santana. Brittany cleaned Artie up with a towel from her floor as Artie exhaled and chuckled a little in release, and Brittany smiled at him, pushing his hair back and wiping the fog from the inside of his glasses. Santana and Brittany both helped put Artie's naked body back into his wheelchair, and Santana threw his clothes, which had been scattered across the room, at him a few minutes later, saying,_

_"How'd you like your parting gift?"_

_With Artie replying,_

_"I feel like a brand new man."_

(x)

Santana's graduation party was another two weeks later. Artie still hadn't watched the threesome video tape yet, and he figured he wasn't going to for a while anyway. Maybe he would pull it out of the back corner of the underwear drawer, from beneath a pile of faded, Yoda-print boxers, a few years from now, long after Santana and Brittany were gone. Maybe he'd wanna reminisce about the (very few) badass, out-of-body-experiences he ever went through in high school, and maybe he'd throw the tape away eventually when he was 29 and his wife found out that he still had it. Or maybe he wouldn't, and maybe he'd given in watch the Artie-Santana-Brittany sex tape when he got home tonight.

At Santana's party, Artie sat in his shirt and tie next to Puck and Sam, drinking from a cup of punch and watching as Santana introduced Brittany to random family members. Puck noticed the way that Artie was looking at the two of them, noticed the way that when Artie said, "I'm glad Santana is so happy now," that he said it with some kind of endearment, and after fourteen days of interrogating Artie about his vague but ego-changing threesome, it finally clicked in Puck's head.

"You got all up in the middle of a Brittana sandwich," he suddenly announced.

Sam frowned and Artie looked up at Puck quickly, half-surprised at the outburst.

"_That's _who it was?" Sam said. "Nice _going, _dude—" he fist bumped Artie accordingly, "but how the hell did you get that to happen?"

Santana looked over at Artie for a moment, unrelated to the boys' conversation. Artie waved at her and Brittany looked over too, smiling at him briefly and warmly just like Santana was.

"I don't know," Artie said, adjusting his glasses. "It was practically their idea."

"I'm proud," Puck said, patting Artie's back. "Of them and of you."

"I guess _I_ need to date one of them, have sex with one of them, get dumped by one of them, get hated on by the other one of them, and then build up a friendship with both of them over the course of a year to get what you did," Sam rambled off.

Artie made a ridiculous face and Puck started laughing.

"Or you can just save yourself the misery, cause lemme tell you, being at the end of Santana's wrath and the end of a broken heart wa'n't no picnic," Artie said with a chuckle, raising his hand. "At first."

Artie's phone buzzed in his pocket then and he checked it quickly. **Santana's really happy that you're here to support her graduation, **it read, from Brittany across the way, **you're the best ex-boyfriend and ex-Santana's-enemy ever! 3**

"For some strange reason, no matter what happened to make it seem otherwise in the past," Artie said, "they both care about me."


End file.
